Chapter 9 #3
“I wonder if he has any idea. She is lovely and I’d love to see my brother with someone who is so giving and kind. Perhaps, when this is over—”
“You promised not to tell him.”
“I won’t tell him. But, perhaps, we could arrange to have them together a bit more,” Deidre said.
He grinned at that. “Well, as they move the injured behind the wall, they’ll be together at times, I’m certain. And, as you say, perhaps—”
“If we all survive.”
“—if we all survive, we can get them together more.”
“Ah, another battle tactic!” Deidre laughed.
Kylin reined in, bringing a finger to his lips.
He had heard a rustling behind them. Someone following them, he was certain.
He motioned to Deidre and she nodded, understanding with no words needing to be said between them.
Kylin indicated the trail ahead where there were thick clumps of trees and foliage on either side.
She nodded again, taking the reins and leading her mount to the right while he started over to the left.
“They are just ahead—I know it,” he said softly. “And we are far enough from the village, not too close to Cillian’s. It’s time to take them down.”
Kylin was certain that Deidre had heard the whisper of a man coming after them as clearly as he had.
And a moment later, a rider emerged, a battle-ax in his hands as he watched the trail before them.
He started to heft his spear.
But the man let out a grunt and fell from his horse.
The pebble that had to be the great Stone of Fal, one of the fabled gifts of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Deidre had hurled it with perfect aim.
The man’s horse let out a snort and reared. Another rider, coming up behind him—this one wielding a large, gleaming sword, rode into view.
“Rian!” the man shouted, looking around and dismounting, hurrying to the downed man. “Rian!”
Kylin hefted the spear, walking out onto the trail to confront the standing enemy.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why do you seek to kill us?” he demanded.
The man didn’t reply. Rather, he let out a roar and lifted his blade high, springing toward Kylin to kill him with all speed.
Kylin let the spear of legend sail from his hand.
And the man went down.
Again, two had come after them. Two. And the one man had called the other “Rian.” That was a common name on the isle, and one not so well known among the Northmen.
“So they are all still about the countryside, seeking us in twos,” Deidre mused, emerging from the shelter of the trees. “Why? What is this plan?”
“To stop us,” Kylin said flatly. But even as he spoke, he heard a whir from behind him. He turned to see that this time, their attackers had not come in twos.
A man was flying at him with a battle-ax.
And another rushed through the trail in his wake.
He spun in time to duck the swing of the battle-ax and draw his own sword. His attacker’s axe stuck in a tree; the man quickly drew his sword to rearm himself.
But as the man drew the weapon, he flew past Kylin, ready to assault Deidre.
Kylin knew that she would be ready with the shimmering silver sword that had been the first of the gifts they’d received.
The man battling him was a giant with a fiery red beard and a balding head. He knew how to use his weight and bulk in a battle.
But Kylin had been trained by his father and, like many young men of his station, he’d ridden alongside Rí Eamon and thus he had trained with two of the best warriors ever, and just as the man used his bulk, Kylin used his speed.
The clang of steel was loud in the forest, causing birds to take flight and create an ever greater sound of cawing and clashing among the trees.
He had to keep reminding himself that Deidre had the shimmering sword, that the silver mist, angels, fairies would be with her.
Deidre could hold her own.
And finally, his opponent made a lunge at him that he sidestepped, sending the man crashing into an oak with the bulk of his weight working against him.
When the man fell, Kylin turned and saw Deidre was managing fine against the man intent on wresting the sword from her.
“Kylin!” she called.
She didn’t need help. She was warning him that yet another man was coming along the trail, barging his way toward them.
Her warning gave him time to step aside; the man crashed by him and he struck his would-be assassin hard on the head with the hilt of his sword.
He turned back to the trail.
No more men seemed to be coming after them. He headed for Deidre and the man she fought, but even as she did so, the shimmering sword seemed to glow to light and with a sure, swift stroke, Deidre brought her opponent down.
He and Deidre looked at one another over the bodies of their fallen enemies.
“So many!” she marveled. “Kylin, they came one after the other. What if the idiots had attacked in force? I don’t doubt your abilities and I know you don’t doubt mine, not with this sword, but still . . .”
“We know now that they may not be sending just two against two,” he said. “We need to just leave them, to move quickly. There could be others behind us.”
“Or ahead of us.”
“And that’s why we must get to Cillian immediately.”
They mounted up and started along the trail again.
There was noise behind them.
Kylin briskly turned back again, and almost smiled. It was just the sound of the horses that had borne the fallen men.
“The horses are following us?” Deidre murmured.
“Well, I’m sure we can always use more horses!” he said.
She nodded. “As long as we keep checking that it’s just horses following us.”
“There’s a clearing ahead. Let’s speed up and see what they do.”
They loped across the clearing, up a small hill and down another. The horses stayed with them. As they slowed their gait again, Kylin looked back, studying the animals.
“They seem to be fine enough mounts. Strange, they might have been free.”
“Ah, but the creatures were surely born in captivity—they know human care. And perhaps—” he smiled and shrugged “—they wish not to ride against others, but to find a home where they are welcome, tended, and given a fine pasture in which to play and live.”
Deidre smiled back. “Only a little way to go,” she said. “We’ll reach Cillian’s land soon now.”
“Not soon enough,” Kylin said.
He looked back again.
No human beings rode in their wake.
The enemies’ mounts watched and waited, ready to follow them. Fine enough horses. And they would, he thought, make a fine addition to Cillian’s stables.